Fresh Air
by worldtravellingfly
Summary: What if Steve has a kid and a significant other at home? (Self-Insert)
1. Chapter 1

No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

This is my first work for the H5-0 fandom, so I hope you guys like it!

Please enjoy!

* * *

-1-

* * *

Steve did not like the look on Anton Hesse's face. He did not like the implications of his words. He especially did not like the fact that his phone was ringing with his dad's number visible in the caller ID.

Hesse major had his dad.

He had his super paranoid father in custody and was willing to trade him in for his brother.

That was okay, for a measure of Fuck You and I'll End You.

But that was not it.

"As a little extra incentive, I've got your wife and kid here with me."

Wife?

Cassie would not appreciate that.

Then his brain kicked in.

"What do you want?"

He signed to Javí that he was compromised, someone should check out his dad's house, and his family's.

Javí blinked and then got to work.

Which was when the entire thing went to shit.

Explosions rocked the ground, flames bursting up. Smoke clouded the air and lungs. Bullets whizzed around them, while choppers ascended upon them.

All the while, Steve tried to protect the bag of worthless scum Anton.

Because his unfortunately cleverer brother had taken his family hostage.

The last thing he consciously heard was a gun shot.

Louder than the ones going off in his immediate surroundings. One that echoed through his mind on repeat. Or maybe those were separate shots?

Steve didn't know. He couldn't focus enough to separate them properly.

Either way, as he looked down on the dead Hesse brother before him, his heart felt like one of the vehicles that got blasted to shreds.

At least Javí had managed to survive without any damage.

They both stared at the dead arms dealer for a moment.

"Come, man, you gotta take care of this mess and when it's safe, we'll call and ask about your family. The men need us now."

Steve allowed himself to be moved away.

Either Cassie and their little cub were dead, or kidnapped and possibly injured.

Hesse would be ruthless in his vengeful retaliation for the loss of his brother.

That much, Steve knew.

It was an unshakeable fact of the universe.

He sighed, rubbed a hand over his forehead, and got to work patching up his men.

There was no need for more of the people surrounding him to die because of his neglect.


	2. Chapter 2

No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

-2-

* * *

 _Six Years Previously_

Steve was stationed in California for the foreseeable future. At least there were beaches and copious amounts of sunshine. Also, palm trees.

For a moment, he was tempted to hug one while no one was watching.

"Yo, Steve! Come on, go out with us," Javí pleaded, pulling a pair of ridiculous puppy dog eyes out of storage.

Unable to come up with a good defense - meaning one they'd accept - right away, Steve found himself squished into a booth next to his teammates.

There was some music playing in the background, but nothing special. TV screens around the room showed a variety of games currently in motion.

His eyes halted on a young woman, sitting by herself, frowning at her watch.

She was tall, nearly as tall as Steve himself, with short, messy hair. Dishwater blonde, by the looks of things. Her eyes were framed by a set of brown glasses, sitting on a straight nose.

She didn't wear anything special, a plaid button down in predominantly blue and a pair of white jeans.

There was a ring on her right pointer finger, left thumb, and both little fingers.

Something about her caught his interest.

Javí elbowed Steve in the side.

"Go on, talk to her," he smiled. "Gotta be good for you to see some nicer faces every once in a while, Smooth Dog."

Nick chimed in, adding his own two cents.

The rest of the group scooted over, letting Steve through without further comment.

Why was he actually going over to her? What if she already had someone? What if she didn't want to talk to him?

Well, that was easy. He'd just leave her alone.

Maybe pretend to watch the game of ladies' golf on the TV behind her.

"Hi. Um, I hope I'm not disturbing you," he managed to get out without sounding desperate or fake.

Steve was 100% chill and he got this. He did.

She looked around for a moment, before realizing he'd spoken to her.

"Hi. No, I doubt my date is gonna show her face. Can I help you with anything?"

He blinked for a moment, slightly taken aback by her bluntness.

Then he smiled. "Do you want to talk for a bit? I'm Steve, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Steve. Call me Cassie. Almost everyone does."

She motioned for him to sit down, which was an invitation he accepted gratefully.

"So, any reason why your friends sent you over here to talk to me?"

"They think I'm lonely and brooding too much," he blurted out, wanting to slap himself once the words registered in his brain.

Smooth, Steve, so smooth.

Cassie blinked, then grinned. "Sounds like you have good friends. You guys look like some type of military or bodybuilding troupe out for an excursion. How do you get anything done with that much beefcake around?"

Steve shrugged, relaxing into the chair. "Sometimes they show signs of brain activity."

The potentially gay person in front of him gasped dramatically. "They can do that?"

He grinned. "Yeah, well. Sometimes. When all the stars align just right."

She laughed at him. "Do they know you're talking trash about them?"

Steve smirked over his shoulder.

"They probably do now."

Cassie offered her hand to shake.

"I have the feeling we're gonna be good friends."


	3. Chapter 3

No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Welcome (back)! Things have been a bit messy in RL right now, so sorry for the wait.

* * *

-3-

* * *

Steve stared at the ground as the plane landed. He'd gotten leave to attend his father's funeral and to talk to HPD about his family. To get an in-person update.

The funeral went as expected. The police department had shown up in force, as well as several Navy buddies from his father's time serving.

Steve had endured the pity-filled stares and whispering. He'd shaken all the hands required, had made a short speech about his father (trying to dredge up the best memories), thanked everyone for coming.

Just when he'd thought to make his escape, the governor approached him.

Now, Steve wasn't exactly stupid.

His dad had obviously still been important enough if the governor of Hawai'i showed up at his funeral, but he couldn't understand why. What had he done to deserve that much of an honoring?

Then the governor continued to talk to him about opportunities and staying in Honolulu and retiring.

Steve honestly paid only a bare minimum of attention.

How could she talk to him about job opportunities and moving directly after his father's funeral?

She probably didn't know about how - disconnected exactly they'd been after so many years, but still.

Steve thought it was basic decency to wait at least a day or two.

He drove back to his hotel, changed and went for a run down at the beach to shake off the strangely persistent governor's words.

He didn't need this shit in his life right now.

After a quick shower, Steve changed into his civilian clothes and hailed a cab. His head felt clear enough to talk to some officer about his family.

There was less buzzing anyway.

They led him to the commissioner's office.

"Sir, Lieutenant Commander McGarrett is here."

"Come in, Commander," the man said, standing up.

Steve shook his hand, shortly after returning the nod the junior officer offered, who left.

"Please allow me to offer my sincere condolences for the loss of your father, on behalf of the Honolulu Police Department. We are trying everything to find your daughter and - partner."

Steve noted the short pause before the man said "partner". Wouldn't be the first time someone disapproved of their relationship or how they chose to conduct it.

"I appreciate it. Are there any new findings?"

He hoped so. Against all common sense and experience, he did.

"No. We assume that Hesse took your daughter and her mother out of the state. We are still unsure how, or the exact date."

Ah, the rush of disappointment. Steve repressed a sigh, nodded, and shook the commissioner's hand.

This was a waste of time. Clearly.

He should probably get used to it.

Steve walked home, trying to figure out how he could help.

To make this gnawing feeling of uselessness go away. To bring the two most precious people in his life home.

Wherever that may be.

As long as they were there, he'd be content.

He slowed down as a familiar figure approached him.

"Steve, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Joe," he nodded at the man.

The man spread his arms in an open invitation of a hug.

Steve hesitated, then slowly stepped forward. His eyes took in every movement his former mentor made.

Then his back was clapped.

"Do they know anything about your lovely Valkyrie and Major Tony?"

His heart squeezed painfully in the confines of his chest.

Steve shook his head. "They're pretty sure they're not on the island anymore, but that's all they've come up with."

Joe squeezed his shoulder in support.

"They're both tough," the older man said. After a moment, he added: "Have you called your friend in NCIS yet?"

"Yeah, he's been keeping an eye out for them on the mainland," Steve shrugged. The mainland was big and Sam was part of only one team. "Him and his colleagues."

They were good, but they had more than one case, and were only six people. (Or however many; Steve couldn't recall for sure right now.)

Joe clapped his shoulder, then let go.

"If there's anything you need, please feel free to call. The boys back at base are burning to help too."

Steve thanked him for the generous offer, but already knew he'd not take Joe up on it unless they found some sort of evidence that Hesse had chosen to stay on the island after all.

There's not a lot a good hundred of men could do, except comb the place.

And he didn't need any more pity, especially not from men he might work with in the future.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. The humidity had it curl all over again - exactly like Tony's...

"Just. Look for them?"

Joe nodded, no further explanation needed.

* * *

Steve spent his night tossing and turning, unable to settle down.

He told himself it was the new bed, or rather its unaccustomed softness, and the familiar sounds of Honolulu.

The combination of the crashing of waves against the beach, overshadowed by the occasional police siren, the wind rustling through the palm trees, and his temporary neighbor's TV.

It wasn't the loneliness gnawing at his insides, the terror of what he stood to lose. Neither were the memories of the last time he'd stepped foot on this island in civilian clothes to blame.

How many more people was he supposed to bury in this place?

His mother, his father, the relationship he'd had with his sister. And now the woman his heart longed for and their daughter?

He swallowed, rubbing his burning eyes.

Sighing, he pushed back the light blanket, getting to his feet.

He grabbed his PT gear, put on his running shoes, and took a bottle of cold water out of the small fridge serving as mini bar.

Shoes pounding the wet sand only moments later, music blasting in his ears from the headphones Cassie'd given him for his birthday, Steve began to slowly feel more alive.

For a short while, he could turn off his mind, emptying it of his worries and fears. Of the memories of his men dying in his arms, of explosions, of bombs, of things better left unseen.

Of his nightmares.

He couldn't outrun them, but he could leave them behind for an hour before dawn crept over the horizon.

Steve diligently went through his stretches, then took everything off except his boxers. He'd forgotten to pack his swimming trunks, but at this time no one would notice, or care if they did.

Not that he particularly cared what other people thought of him.

He swam for another hour, relishing the delicious burn a good workout evoked in his muscles.

Eventually, Steve walked back to the hotel, hunger slowly waking within him. His stomach rumbled when he passed a _malasadas_ stand.

He stopped walking, turned back, and ordered one.

Cassie would have applauded him, cheering on his rebellious streak.

She would have wanted him to keep on living, even if - Even in the event of the worst case scenario.

He threw away the wrapping paper, hitting the trash can without trying particularly hard.

Steve looked at his phone - no new messages. No ransom demands.

Once he was back in his room, he went straight for the shower, washing off the sea water, the sand, and sweat.

Tugging a shirt over his head, he slipped back in the cargo pants he'd worn yesterday.

Time to revisit his childhood home and try to figure out if he could discover anything the cops had not noticed.

And to try to guess what the hell his father's last words actually meant.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable belongs to me. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Yay an update for Fresh Air! I know, I couldn't believe it either! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

-4-

* * *

Steve rented a car from the closest dealership, wondering privately how long he'd stay in Honolulu.

His CO hadn't given him unlimited leave, despite everything.

His phone rang just as he sat down in the driver's seat.

"Catherine?"

His best friend cleared her throat.

"Steve. Any new leads?"

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "No. Hesse is probably long gone."

She remained quiet for a beat. Fabric rustled in the background, so maybe she'd nodded.

"I'm coordinating my results with Sam. Unfortunately, we don't have a contact in HPD. Yet. I'm tracking all known aliases Hesse the elder has used before."

Then Catherine proceeded to report her other on-going ideas on how to find them for him.

Not because she wanted his approval, but to give him some peace of mind. An idea of what was happening in the background.

It was good to know he wasn't as alone as he felt.

Eventually, she remained silent, allowing him to process and assimilate.

"Thank you, Cath."

Steve meant it with every fiber of his being.

"This one is free. No thanks necessary," was all she said in reply.

He closed his eyes, head bowing, teeth digging into his lip.

"I appreciate it."

Catherine cleared her throat again.

"How was the funeral?"

Ah, not pulling her punches today. But then again, he should have expected nothing less.

Steve sighed. "Long," he muttered, back to rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come."

Seagulls were shrieking close by, louder than the normal hustle and bustle of the city.

"It's fine. I didn't want to go either, to be honest. That man in the coffin might have been my father, but my Dad died a long time ago."

Catherine took a deep breath. "Oh, Steve. We'll do our best to find them. Both of them, alive."

He nodded at the rear view mirror, although she'd never see it.

"I know."

"Just promise me something?"

Hesitation unfurled in his gut, creeping up his spine. Clogging his throat for a moment.

"Don't do anything stupid. I can't save your sorry ass anymore and Sam's in LA. Please?"

Steve closed his eyes as he breathed out.

"I'll do my best. You know me."

Catherine sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."

They didn't talk for much longer.

Steve eventually managed to drive toward the old house. The memories swirled back to life the closer he got.

Even how to get there turned out to be like riding a bicycle: not easily forgotten.

For a moment, Steve just stayed seated. Staring at the house.

It still looked the same, down to the littlest details. Just the way the sea smelled in the breeze poked things in his mind best left sleeping.

The house gleamed in the sun.

White, the supposed color of innocence.

With a snort, Steve shook himself out of the thoughts and opened the door.

As he locked the car, another one caught his eye.

Who drove a _Camaro_ to a crime scene?

Probably just a neighbor, or someone visiting them.

Steve doubted that most cops could afford a car like that on the island. Or anywhere, actually.

Shaking his head, he straightened up.

Then he let out another deep breath, centering himself.

He reached out a hand, opening the gate, and set foot on his family's property for the first time in 20 years or so.

Walking down the familiar path, he took in what he could of the front yard.

Nothing had changed. At least on the outside, which surprised him.

There were no foot tracks, no broken branches. No disturbed flowerbeds either.

The lawn needed mowing if anything.

Soft clinking drew his attention to the wind chimes his mother had hung in one of the trees. It had grown into the wood, firmly anchored.

Probably why his father never removed them.

As far as Steve remembered, he'd always hated the noise they'd make.

Inwardly counting to twenty, Steve centered himself again.

He wasn't here to critique his father's gardening choices.

With a sigh, he opened the door. It was unlocked.

Someone else most definitely was in the house. What were they doing here?

Placing a hand on his Glock, Steve moved carefully through the hallway. Checking every room for unwanted occupants.

In the living room, he found somebody.

A sole blond, dressed in rather formal wear for Honolulu.

The grip on his gun tightened.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Holy shit! Don't sneak up on me," the blond demanded, hand having gone to his own weapon of choice.

Steve didn't blink.

"I don't like to repeat myself."

"Who are _you_?"

They stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact.

Steve had no intentions to either.

"Why don't we both reach for our IDs together? And put our guns away?"

The blond's suggestion had merit.

So Steve nodded, reaching for his wallet. "Count of three."

Whoever the other guy was, began to count down.

According to his ID, the blond was a cop. A Daniel Williams.

Steve memorized all the relevant information within moments.

When he met the man's gaze again, he'd calmed down.

"Hey, I'm sorry for your loss," Williams offered. "And I hope you know HPD is doing everything they can to find your family."

He sounded genuine, offering his hand for a shake.

Regardless of that, Steve had only one thought: Why was this guy wearing a tie?

Williams cleared his throat. "I have a daughter too. She's a bit older than yours. I can't imagine what you're going through right now."

Steve blinked, nodded, and accepted the handshake belatedly.

"Thanks."

They stood there, neither saying a word for a while.

The wind chimes clanked against each other, the breeze picking up.

"Why are you here? By yourself?" Steve asked, crossing his arms.

Williams bit his lip, then nodded to himself. "I've been assigned to your father's murder."

"And have you discovered anything new?"

Probably not, but it didn't hurt to ask.

The man didn't reply right away. "You know you can't be here, don't you?"

Steve held his gaze. "I wanted to see..."

Williams seemed to understand. "Is there anything out of place?"

Concentrating, Steve let his eyes roam over the room. Sliding by the blond. (So obviously from the mainland.)

He did his best to ignore the rusty bloodstains on the carpet, shelf, and the wall.

Someone had been by to clean that up, although Steve wasn't sure why or when.

In his mind, he reconstructed the scene as best as he could.

His father had been placed in a chair right by the bloodiest part of the carpet.

Tony and Cassie had been tied up. They'd been in the same room, somewhat close.

His daughter had probably seen the execution of her grandfather in all its goriness.

Swallowing, Steve bent down, kneeling on the floor.

There, by the shelf, something fuzzy poked out. He reached out, fingers curling around the yellow fabric tag.

With a tug, he held his daughter's favorite stuffed animal.

Charlie.

Charlie the Sheep.

Biting his lip, Steve pressed the plushie against his chest.

Bad enough that Tony and Cassie had been kidnapped. But to leave Tony without her Charlie?

Rubbing his eyes with his free hand, Steve got to his feet.

Turning around, he looked at the table. Something about it poked his gut.

Dust was everywhere. (Charlie had suffered from his stay under the shelf.) But there was an almost square space free of it on the table.

Of course, his father could have had a place mat there and eaten lunch or whatever.

But Jack McGarrett was a slave to routine. He'd always eaten in the kitchen or on the deck in the backyard.

The dining table in the living room was for special occasions only.

Hence, someone else had to have been sitting there.

Steve almost touched the dust-free spot. Almost. He stopped himself shortly before his fingers reached the wooden tabletop.

Almost square, about the size of a folder?

Laptop.

It had to have been a laptop.

Those bastards probably triangulated the call. That's how they found their convoy, even in the lonely Korean countryside.

They'd played him really fucking well.

Rolling the tension out of his shoulders, Steve forced himself to blink. Slowly.

"There was a computer there," he pointed out to Williams.

Steve turned his head, so their eyes met again.

"My father didn't own any. He despised them."

The blond nodded, jotting something down in his notebook.

"Someone else must have brought one then. Hesse?"

"His henchman more like. Hesse was – busy."

Williams swallowed whatever he wanted to say.

Then Steve went back to his inspection of the room.

Everything still looked exactly like it used to, 20 years ago. Discounting the minor issue of old bloodstains.

As far as he could tell, nothing was missing. Nothing material, anyway.

But there was nothing explaining his father's mysterious last words either.

Steve suppressed a growl of frustration.

"Can I look through the other rooms?"

It grated to have to ask permission, but he would. If only to make this whole process easier on himself.

The lives of his favorite people were on the line.

Williams hesitated. His eyes examined him from top to toe. After a minute or an eternity, he nodded.

"I'll go with you."

So much for that then.

Regardless of his feelings, Steve thanked him.

He started his search on the ground floor and worked his way up to the bedrooms.

There was nothing there, as expected. But he'd needed to make sure. To take note of the littlest details.

His training demanded it.

To his credit, Williams remained patient. At least outwardly.

Eventually, they reached the garage.

The only room without pedantic order in the entire house.

There was the car his father had loved working on, protected by a hood.

A toolbox close to the car caught Steve's eye.

It used to be stored in a specific spot on the shelf. There used to be labels.

What was it doing next to the car?

Hadn't his father said something about champ? The tool box brand was called Champ.

Steve itched to just take it. But with Williams there, watching every move he made, that wouldn't be possible.

It must be important if his father had explicitly mentioned it. Very important.

Possibly it could help find Cassie and Tony.

There was only one thing he could do.

Steve reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a business card.


	5. Chapter 5

-5-

* * *

No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 _Six years previously, two months after their first meeting_

* * *

Steve waited for the call to go through. Hopefully he wasn't disturbing anything important.

By now, he'd learned that to interrupt an artist in the midst of a highly productive spree wouldn't exactly endear him to said artist.

"Hi, how's it going, surfer boy?" The cheerful voice of one Cassandra Amsel greeted him.

"I'm fine. You?"

She laughed. "Wonderful. I've sold another script and another one is being shot right now."

What did one say to that? He scratched his forehead absently.

"Congratulations!"

That could never go wrong.

"Thank you. So, what's up?"

Steve rubbed his neck.

"The waves are really nice today. Do you wanna go surfing?"

Maybe she was busy? How did one celebrate selling their writing? What did one have to do?

He disliked not knowing.

Then again, Cassie would probably tell him if he asked.

"I've never been surfing before, but I like swimming. And I've decided to take the rest of the day off anyway."

"You've never been surfing before?"

Steve would deny to his dying day that he squeaked like a squirrel that got stepped on.

Cassie laughed. "I know, I know. It's a serious crime?"

To someone who'd grown up with the Pacific Ocean quite literally in their backyard, it was.

"How would you suggest I redeem myself?"

He didn't hesitate. "I'll teach you. If you want."

She hummed, probably thinking it through.

"Sure, why not? When do you want to meet up?"

"As soon as possible."

Steve already had all of his stuff ready to go.

"Okay. I'll be at our usual spot in fifteen minutes."

Grinning, he disconnected the call.

Sam smiled broadly at him, clapped his back, and wished him luck. Heartily.

In reply, Steve rolled his eyes.

"Have fun, but not too much! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

One of Steve's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "You're married, Sam."

"So what? Married people have fun too!"

Shaking his head, he left Sam to his own devices and got ready to leave.

Cassie arrived a few minutes after him, parking her bike securely. (With a few curses in her native language that he'd dearly like translated.)

"Steve!"

With a few steps, she bounced over to him, hugging him tightly.

"Hi."

He allowed himself to return the hug.

Once they separated, Steve slung an arm around her waist.

Cassie poked him gently. There was mischief gleaming in her eyes.

"You look good, soldier."

He winced. That one had hurt. Deeply.

"Please, if anything, I'm a sailor."

She laughed. "Well, sailor, you're looking pretty good. No blood, no stitches. I'm proud of you, Handsome!"

Steve found himself rolling his eyes at her silliness. Again.

"Thank you," he muttered, sneaking a glance at her. "You look nice too."

A very light pink dusted her cheeks. "Thanks. Now, how does one learn how to surf?"

Steve had done his homework, so he steered her in the direction of a board shack.

They loaned two boards, almost the same size, then looked for a somewhat secluded spot on the beach.

For the next hour or so, he demonstrated how to get on a board. How to fall off.

Steve had to correct her posture a lot, but Cassie didn't seem to mind being touched by him.

Once they both felt somewhat better about her abilities, they went into the water.

If he were honest, Steve couldn't help but stay close to Cassie.

What if someone dropped in on her or cut her off? What if she drowned?

Not sure why he was so worried, he preferred staying close by.

Cassie remained somewhat clumsy. (She fell off and wiped out a lot.)

But her laughter was filling the air, rising over the crash of waves and the shrieks of sea gulls.

That alone made the whole experience worth it.

Eventually, they returned the boards.

"Do you have some time left?"

Steve checked his watch.

"Yeah."

"Great. Let's have a drink to celebrate. Come on!"

Which is how he found himself sitting in a beach club, with a non-alcoholic, colorful drink in hand.

There was a pink miniature umbrella.

Cassie beamed.

Despite SPF 50 sunscreen, her nose and shoulders were a little red. She'd probably feel that in the morning.

Maybe he should get her some aloe...

She offered her glass for a toast.

"To surfing."

"And scripts that sell."

They clinked their glasses, eyes still connected.

Steve couldn't help it: he was smiling right along with her.

But she was not into him. Probably. Very likely not.

Cassie's phone vibrated, lighting up with a text message.

"Huh, it's from Diana."

Wasn't that the girl who'd stood her up?

"She apologized for that," Cassie reminded him, poking his biceps.

How in the world did she know what he was thinking?

He'd have to work on his poker face. A lot.

"It's fine. She was too afraid of her family's reactions. That's okay."

Steve just stared at his – friend?

Yeah. They were friends by now.

"I think she wasn't ready to try for a relationship. Not yet, at least. Besides, they're all living in the vicinity, so the moment she'd have stepped into that bar, she'd have basically outed herself. Not cool."

He could still judge someone for hurting his friend, couldn't he?

Cassie sipped some more of her Safer Sex.

"Anyway. I hope I'm not annoying you with all those countless cat memes."

Steve shook his head.

"I like them," he admitted, though he'd only do that to her.

If anyone else asked, he'd ask what memes they were talking about. And how the hell they'd hacked him.

Then he'd shoot them.

Probably.

Cassie grinned broadly. "That's good."

They enjoyed the calm of the moment, sipping their ridiculous fancy drinks.

Apparently not even Cassie felt an urge to fill the quiet with words – a personal record, to be sure. It had to be.

At one point, she scooted over, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I'm glad your buddies made you talk to me in that bar."

Steve wasn't sure what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead he wrapped his arm around her again. Holding her close.

She was almost six feet of creativity, cursing, and cat memes. She shouldn't seem so vulnerable.

Once they paid, Steve walked her to her bike. (Why she insisted on using that thing instead of a car, he had no idea. Must be the European in her.)

Cassie smiled at him. "Take care of yourself and answer my texts and mails, okay?"

"I'll try," he promised.

She hugged him, telegraphing her movements so he could step away.

Steve didn't. He liked her hugs.

They were nice. Made him feel all warm and happy inside.

"Good. I had a lot of fun today," Cassie told him. She went up on her tiptoes, pressing a light kiss on his cheek.

With a wink, she got on her bike.

Steve blinked back into reality when her bicycle turned a corner.

What the hell had just happened?


	6. Chapter 6

No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

-6-

* * *

The phone rang once, twice, and then the call was picked up.

"Lieutenant Commander, I didn't expect you to call so soon. What can I help you with?"

Maybe Cassie had rubbed off on him over the last few years, but something about the woman's chitchatting seemed off to Steve.

Or maybe it was just that he didn't appreciate the manner in which she'd forced herself into his life. That could also be an option.

Steve would have to talk it out with Sam or Catherine sometime. When they had less on their plates.

(When Cassie and Tony had returned.)

Unfortunately, he needed the governor's support right now.

"I've thought about your offer and I would like to accept it."

For a moment, Jameson remained silent. Then she cleared her throat pointedly.

"I'll have my assistant organize the paperwork. Do you have a witness?"

Williams counted, didn't he?

He was present, could keep up well enough, so far at least, and he'd definitely have some new perspectives to offer.

If Steve asked.

Currently, the guy seemed to swallow a lot of his thoughts around him.

The governor rustled with something.

"Yes," Steve replied, realizing he hadn't yet.

Williams' glare burned into his shoulders.

"Very good. I need you to be sworn in. Repeat after me."

Then she made him recite the whole oath. Again.

With his hand in the air and all.

Whatever it took to get Tony and Cassie home. There was quite literally nothing he'd not do for them.

Once they were both back in his life, he could worry about the consequences of his current actions.

Cassie would not be happy that they'd not talked about this decision together.

Then again, she'd probably be happy he wasn't going to be gone for most of the year. Not anymore.

Once Steve was sworn in, Governor Jameson outlined her expectations to him.

Mostly to keep the islands clean, support HPD, which he translated as bureaucratic for "take care of the stuff HPD didn't want to touch".

Oh, and they'd get full means and immunity.

The governor told him to show up at her office within the next few days to clear the legal stuff. To go through funding and all the other boring shit.

Steve knew he'd also have to formally hand in his resignation at base. To register as a reservist.

His CO would probably _love_ that.

Once Jameson finished, she advised him to start recon on who he'd like to recruit in her special task force.

All the while, Williams stared at him with the oddest expression. A mix of constipation and anger.

Then again, most people suffering from constipation weren't exactly super cheerful.

"What was that?" Williams burst out the second Steve was no longer speaking on the phone.

Ah, there it was.

The explosive temperament of the East Coast. Specifically someone from a large, urban area on the East Coast.

Steve thought that suited the blond much better than his false neutral veneer.

He'd give all his emotions (and tells) away with his eyes, so maybe he should invite him for a round of poker once this whole mess was over.

Cassie wouldn't mind having some extra cash for the move.

"That was the oath of office. I thought you'd recognize it when you heard it," Steve retorted, texting Sam with a quick update.

He looked up from his phone into angry brown eyes.

"I did. What the heck required that? Or did you just feel it coming on?"

Amusement tugged at the corners of Steve's mouth.

"Would you say you're a competent cop?"

Williams spluttered for a moment, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Yeah, I am!"

"How are you at driving? Shooting? Any physical impediments? Last psych evals go well?"

In response, the blond's mouth actually dropped open.

"That's none of your business."

"I'm making it my business though," Steve protested, arms crossed.

Happily ignoring the near constant vibrations announcing incoming texts.

Sam was either happy or insanely mad.

Steve would find out later. Now wasn't the time for chitchat.

Williams blinked. "Why?"

His arms were crossed too.

"You just witnessed the birth of a special task force. I need a partner."

Steve watched his new buddy's reaction carefully.

Williams blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, huffed, and seemed to come to some sort of decision in the span of a minute.

"Then in answer to your question, since I'm assuming you'll take over the case from HPD: good, good, no, and good."

"Now, update me on your findings. I need a copy of the file."

Williams closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead, then straightened.

"Alright. Let's go to the precinct."

Steve would appreciate it. This house wasn't exactly his happy place.

As it turned out, Williams definitely owned the Camaro.

The man drove like a grandpa: sticking to the speed limits, stopping at yellow lights, the whole nine yards.

It was frustrating as hell.

Steve followed after him, wondering why he'd recruited this guy.

Usually, he avoided the hell out of split-second decisions. Unless he was in the field.

Or with a certain German expat who could drive him up palm trees faster than anyone else.

Shaking his head, he focused back onto driving.

After they'd parked, Williams went in and grabbed the file.

He had the foresight to also procure copies of the file relating to Tony's and Cassie's abduction.

Maybe there was a reason for hiring this guy after all.

Steve's gut feeling never let him astray.

Either way, Williams joined him in his rental.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked before handing the files over.

Shaking himself out of his wandering thoughts, Steve nodded. Then he read the files. Without further comment from anyone present.

His phone was still vibrating every so often.

To summarize: Cassie and Tony had been abducted at their home, smuggled to Honolulu somehow, and been forced to witness everything Hesse had done up to and including the murder of Jack McGarrett. Then they'd presumably been smuggled out again.

It sounded too – hard. There were too many damn obstacles.

Why smuggle them here and then back out again?

Hesse might have been obsessed about his brother's safety, but even so, why go to this trouble?

As much as Steve hated to admit it, Hesse could have just called from the apartment in California.

Save himself some work. Less heavy lifting, less killing of people related to him.

Revenge was all well and good, but it burned one out faster than some fancy fireworks in a pond.

It hollowed you out after a while.

Cassie would roll her eyes at him if she could hear his thoughts right now.

Sighing, Steve rubbed his forehead.

"Why did you request a warrant for this Doran person?"

Maybe Williams had seen something he hadn't.

The blond blinked, returning from his own lost thoughts.

"The gun Hesse used to shoot your father. He had to have gotten it from somewhere, so I ran the bullet through the system. Got a match for a previous case. Doran deals in all kinds of weapons and _very likely_ supplied that one."

Steve nodded slowly.

Then his eyes fell on the digital clock on the dashboard.

"Let's go eat," he said, ignoring Williams' spluttering.

The man yelled a lot.

It was like he had his own personal, portable drill sergeant.

Steve almost felt at home. _Almost_.

They had some fantastic Loco Moco from a shack he vaguely remembered.

Williams kept his mouth shut, for once not complaining.

Meanwhile, Steve focused on the files.

He knew how Hesse operated. He knew he'd lay low somewhere until he'd get a way out. Somehow that man always landed on his feet.

Steve sighed, frowning at the paperwork.

HPD thought that Hesse had already left Honolulu. That he was back on the mainland, Tony and Cassie in tow.

Steve wasn't so sure about that anymore.

How would they know if he left the islands? Or not?

The man was like a weasel. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. At least not by HPD.

He needed to speak to someone local. Someone more up to date, who'd know a trustworthy source to talk to.

Swallowing another bite of his food, Steve rubbed his forehead.

"What's the plan for now? Or do you not believe in those?" Williams asked, pointing his plastic fork at him.

Steve looked up from the file for a moment.

"Something about this stinks. Why drag them here? He could have abducted them at home. If he knows about them, he definitely knew where to find them. Why not just call from the apartment? That would have been easier than trying to orchestrate all of _this_."

Williams nodded slowly, eyes resting on his plate.

"Was it just a show of power? To prove that he could come here, haul my family along, and kill my father? For what purpose? It doesn't make any sense. I've chased Hesse and his brother around the globe for the last five years. He's never been this irrational before."

"Maybe the loss of his brother kicked him over the edge?" The blond suggested.

He was rolling the bottle of lemonade in his hands, tapping the opening against his lips every so often.

Steve sighed.

"Maybe."

Or maybe there was something else going on? Something no one had picked up on yet?

What were they missing?


End file.
